


fine line

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [107]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: """"enemies"""" you're so dramatic hermann, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, M/M, hermann to the rescue!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 07:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21194000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Newton Geiszler is Hermann's enemy (or, at least, that's what he tries to convince himself).(He's not very good at being rivals, considering the biology student's irritatingly attracting and they wind up necking outside a club.)





	fine line

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Prompt, Herman and newt, enemies at uni. Until Herman hears Newton being cornered at the student bar by a group of ne'er doers (I think that means they are dicks?) Maybe one has a crush on newt who knows, but herman rescues the Doctor (to be) in distress and then there's kissing!"

Hermann Gottlieb is an aspiring doctor of physics: fact.

Hermann Gottlieb is rivals with Newton Geiszler, a larger-than life aspiring biologist; their rivalry is the stuff of rumour; people will clear out of a room faster than animals fleeing a flash-flood the instant they begin to speak to each other: fact.

Newton Geiszler, however, is also across the room from Hermann, sitting on the edge of his bar-stool, back nearly hitting the edge of the bar-counter, surrounded by a group of older students, laughing.

He looks…calm, almost, for once.

It’s a good look on him; smooths out the pre-mature lines dug into his skin around his mouth, and the furrow of his brow.

He’s dressed casually; more-so than usual, black skinny-jeans ripped, make-up darkening his eyes, and he looks like he’s having _fun._

Hermann bites his lip; bites back the urge to go over there and talk to him, because that will end in an argument no matter how it starts off; it always morphs in to an argument with them—Newton has the unique ability to make Hermann’s blood boil, pounding in his ears, like no other.

Sometimes, it makes him wonder what happened to the Newton Geiszler who wrote to him for four years before they both ended up at the same uni; the Newton Geiszler who was passionate but immaculate in his writing, who seemed, genuinely, to care about Hermann.

He swallows thickly; orders another glass of water and switches his gaze to where the group of his peers who grudgingly invited him along are dancing; refuses to let it drift back to Newton.

* * *

It’s a different bar, this time; somehow, Hermann allowed himself to get dragged along again, despite preferring to remain in his room, studying, or simply relaxing with a good book.

Newton is here, too, again; with the same group of students from last time, but his laugh seems—_strained,_ and when his eyes lock with Hermann’s, momentarily, across the room, there’s a bit of panic in them. Hermann’s bar-stool skitters across the floor, his cane hitting the ground, a rapid _one-two_ as he strides over.

“Newton,” he greets with an easy smile that barely hides his unease; the others, much taller, crowd in on the two of them, menacing expressions on their faces. “Could you come with me for a moment—?”

“_We’re_ talking to him,” one of the students snaps; leaning towards Hermann, towering above him. “Get lost, dude.”

Newton gives a nervous laugh. “Guys, guys, calm down,” he says; voice high, and it cracks on the last word. “Look, man—I gotta go, okay? Herms needs me for…” He sends Hermann a searching look, and when Hermann doesn’t answer fast enough, another one of the students scoffs.

“Just give us the answers and we’ll be on our way, freak,” he spits.

Hermann’s nails dig into his palm, and Newton catches sight of his knuckles, white on his cane; holds up a hand. “Alright, alright,” he says, “just—lemme talk to Herms for a sec, ‘kay? And then you can have your answer.”

The students crowding them exchange glances; finally, the first one nods. “Alright,” he says, “but make it quick.”

Newt lets out a sigh; beckons Hermann. “Closer,” he hisses, when Hermann stops an arm’s length away. Hermann, frowning, obliges; presses close enough that Newton’s breath ghosts across his skin, rasping in his ear. “_Run,_” he says, and shoves Hermann, stumbling, away. “Gentlemen,” he says, turning back to the others. “Here’s your answer: gentlemen: suck my dick!”

Hermann barely makes it out of the way in time; the students surge forward with a roar.

“Newton!” he shouts, as the other disappears.

A moment later, he catches sight of a tattoo-covered arm; lunges forward and grabs it, pulling for dear life, and drags Newton out.

“Jesus _fuck,_” Newton whines, rubbing his arm as they make a hasty getaway outside. “Did you have to grip me that hard?”

“Did _you_ have to provoke them?” Hermann counters, panting a bit; glares.

“Well why did _you_ have to interfere?”

“_I was trying to help!_” Hermann shouts.

For a second; silence; then, Newton begins to laugh, braces his arm against the brick of the wall; tears streaming from his eyes as he shakes. “Dude,” he gasps, “dude, oh my—oh my _god._ We’re arguing about _this?_”

The irritation that’s been building in Hermann evaporates, and he, too, begins to smile. “Well,” he says, and then, again, having nothing better to say; “well.”

They stand there for a moment; casting quick glances at each other. Newton’s eye-shadow is deep, deep blue tonight, and he’s added glitter, the colours highlighting his eyes; the street-lights glint off of his glasses lenses. He looks—_fetching,_ suddenly.

(Hermann Gottlieb finds Newton Geiszler irrationally attractive, and always has: fact.)

For a movement, he breathes; heavy, mind racing and yet so, so blank. Newton’s gaze catches his; slips, down, catching for a moment before flickering back up. His eyes are dark and wide. Hermann swallows.

“Hey,” Newton says; softly. “You’ve got—” he gestures to the side of his mouth.

Hermann raises a hand; scrubs at the skin.

“No, here, let me—” Newton reaches up; swipes his finger just above Hermann’s top lip. “…there,” he breathes. Hermann blinks at him, dazed.

“I…”

“I think you’re adorable and I’m super into you,” Newton blurts.

“…what?”

Newt pulls his hand back; gives a nervous little laugh. “Uh, yeah,” he says; drags a hand through his hair. “That’s…” he gives a wave with both of his hands; fingers fluttering, drawing invisible little shapes.

“Why…_now?_” Hermann asks.

Newt laughs again. “Now?” he says. “Nah, man, since like…ever.”

_Well,_ Hermann thinks. _That’s news to_ me.

“Say something?” Newt asks.

“I like the makeup,” Hermann says, instead. “Brings out your eyes.”

“…are you saying that because you’re freaked out or because you like my eyes?”

“Why not _both?_” Hermann retorts; the distance between them seems to be disappearing at an exponential rate, one gravitating towards the other like magnets.

“Fuck you, that’s why,” Newton replies. “Also, if you don’t have any complaints, I kinda want to kiss you.”

“Good!” Hermann bites out, and, in a move far more bold than he’s possibly ever made before in his life, grabs Newton by the front of his shirt and drags him into a messy, off-kilter kiss, the other’s fingers scrabbling for purchase.

“Fuck you,” Newton hisses against his lips; teeth digging in a bit too much to be pleasant, and shoves him back against the wall (mindful, still, somehow, _always,_ of his leg); presses closer, and then he’s not speaking, not anymore; hands cradling Hermann’s face, and Hermann’s is still gripping the front of his shirt.

Newton pulls back a bit, and Hermann says, in a breath, “We should go somewhere less—”

“Hard?” Newt supplies, fingers trailing over Hermann’s jaw.

“Stop it,” Hermann snaps, and pulls his fingers out of the fabric of Newton’s white shirt to grab his hand.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Newt says, immediately; begins to pull away. “Sorry, man, am I going to fast? Or is it something else?”

“No, no—” Hermann stops; bites his lip. “I’ve never been with anyone before,” he admits. “I don’t…know what to do.”

“Ohh,” Newt says. “Okay. Well, we can totally take it slow, that’s chill—just go back to my place and order a pizza and watch a stupid movie, if you want, and maybe make out a bit, if you wanna…”

“No—yes, no, I’d like that,” Hermann says; lets Newt’s hand go; reaches, instead, out to the other’s face. “Oh,” he says, “I smudged your makeup…”

Newton laughs. “Hey, don’t worry, man,” he says, “it’s no big deal, alright?”

“…alright,” Hermann says; dubious.

“My place is just down the street a bit,” Newton says; “uh, if you want to.”

“Alright,” Hermann agrees; grinning a bit, and Newton pulls back; offers a hand, fingers locking between Hermann’s. “Lead on, then, Doctor Geiszler.”

“Aww,” Newton says, “cute.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [harrowwharks](https://harrowwharks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
